Specialization Comes To Motorcycling
Specialization Comes to Motorcycling
Are You An Obvious Cycle Type?
Ronald Swartley
You’re aboard that two-wheeled Go Machine of a sunny afternoon, and your eyes are full of the sights. You’re scenery watching, traffic watching, billboard watching, and whatever watching. Naturally, in amongst that scenery, traffic, and billboards, you’re bound to see now and then a fellow motorcyclist.
You may give said fellow a friendly nod, or maybe lift some fingers off the bars in a finger wave, or you may possibly give him the whole treatment of head nod, fingers and arm wave, plus the full 32-tooth smile. A little farther down the road you come across another twowheeler and it’s the same routine.
During those friendly greetings, you’re also making a quick field survey of those riders you see out on the byways. You note the way they command their machines—the rider’s stance, bearing, general appearance, etc.—and you note the machines themselves. Before your eyes leave that other motorcyclist (and his, you), you’ll have made certain preliminary judgments and conclusions. This is usually what we do (mostly unconsciously) with people we see for the first time, on or off a motorcycle.
With motorcyclists, however, this game can be a bit more interesting. It’s fascinating to observe how individual riders have adopted and adapted the motorcycle to fit their own personalities. We all come up with a slightly different way of expressing this bond. . . in the details.
Most of us, though, still probably come under the heading of two-wheel “generalists.” We use bikes for a little pure transportation, a little touring, a little grocery shopping, a little pure entertainment, and perhaps a little competition out on the track. However, it seems to me that there are also some two-wheel “specialists” out there: riders who become more or less locked into one specialized—and often intriguingmode of motorcycling approach. Casual observation has netted an even halfdozen interesting specialized types. Herewith are those six colorful kinds.
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THE MECHANIC
The Mechanic has to be called a mechanical perfectionist. If there were such a thing, he’d have his Ph.D. in Bikeology. He may not know much about politics, religion, or other people’s bikes, but he for certain knows about his bike.
Like the Army sharpshooter, he can just about tear down and reassemble the object of his affection, blindfolded. He has to. Otherwise, how could he keep it running at the high degree of perfection he demands? He’s continually attuned to the status of his machine’s health. He can tell within a half millimeter where his valve tappets are set, and he knows immediately if the timing goes off by even one degree.
He wouldn’t dream of taking his bike to a cycle shop, because he figures (probably correctly) that he can do a better job of fixing it and maintaining it. And, of course, he’s got the tools to do that. He carries almost enough with him to do a complete field overhaul. He has nearly enough spare parts lying around the house to completely build a second motorcycle.
Out on the highway, you’ll see him constantly looking down at his bike, his ear cocked, searching for hidden problems. When he pulls out from a stop sign the shift pattern will be executed so smoothly you’d think it was an automatic transmission. You’ll often see him wearing a mechanic’s jumper; this is only logical, since he knows he’s going to be wading into his bike’s innards sooner or later anyway (probably sooner). He may have a number on the jumper and bike, since he’s the type who likes to compete out on the race course. He thrives on performance! He tends to crowd the speed limit just a bit even on public streets, as if in a continuous dash for the checkered flag. If he happens to look up from his bike long enough to see you on the freeway, he’s the type most likely to give the full head nod, arm wave and 32-tooth treatment. The one drawback to being The Mechanic is that he’s such a perfectionist that he just can’t relax and enjoy motorcycling, even with a millimeter excess valve tappet clearance.
THE LONE RANGER
This guy is the one most closely resembling that cowboy of the Old West who rides off into the sunset. The motorcycle to him is a reliable horse, taking him where he wants to go. . .and in the most efficient, economical way possible. The Lone Ranger has a fierce pride in his bike. He swears by it. Like The Mechanic, he knows how to keep his bike healthy. He carries almost as many tools, and even more spare parts than The Mechanic, and has plenty of room to carry them; saddlebags and travel trunk are mandatory equipment.
His bike tends to be the super reliable touring type, often with a shaft drive. Since he rides long distances he demands features on a bike that cut down on fatigue, so accessories such as a full fairing and windshield are standard. He knows all the tricks for troublefree, long-distance, comfortable riding. You’ll see him with his legs flayed out in hot weather to catch the cooling breeze, and hunched over in the fetal position when it’s extremely cold. He’ll often ride with a set throttle and his hands off the bars, for better comfort and more warmth.
He’s an all-weather, all-season cyclist, willing to smash through sheets of ice cold water day or night. He’ll occasionally have a frozen ear lobe and pneumonia in one lung to prove it. He seems to love punishing himself. He likes to take independent action, always out there searching for that new route to India. He’s basically a friendly type, though, who will gladly give you at least a full arm wave when meeting you out on the road.
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MR. COOL
Mr. Cool expresses his independence and individuality in a different way. Unlike The Lone Ranger, who avoids urban areas whenever possible, Mr. Cool doesn’t mind staying around town. To him, image is the important thing. He’s gotta come across as “Cool.” His bike can run as ragged as a pile driver, but it’s gotta look classy. Both he and his bike have to stand out. For that reason you’ll almost never find him riding a completely stock machine. Instead, it most often falls within the range of that motorcycle art form known as choppers.
If there’s a pattern to his bike madness, it is that there isn't any pattern, for Mr. Cool is full of incongruity. He may have a richly studded, patched and patterned riding jacket, bizarrely painted helmet (only if there’s a helmet law in his state. If there isn’t, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one), and will be wearing cool looking shades. But then he’ll have nothing more than swimming trunks on down below. He may be overweight, unshaven and smoking a big black cee-gar, but have a svelte, proper, descreet looking “old lady” riding on the buddy seat behind. His bike may be almost 100-percent chrome-plated, with such things as custom headers, chromed push rod covers, fancy cheetah seat, and intricately beautiful scroll bar, but have a zero-to-sixty time of 44 seconds—if indeed it makes it to sixty.
His most prominent feature is the lordly way he commands his machine. He’s obviously in his element, riding down the street on his movable throne. He’s got a satisfied mind. He sits back on the saddle as though he were Grand Marshal in the Rose Parade. He believes in doing his own thing and taking independent action all right, just like The Lone Ranger. Although he is serene on his perch, he rarely deigns to give even a nod to a fellow motorcyclist (although I’ve seen him stop and give him a helping hand).
THE DUDE
The Dude, too, is looking for a way to be different and non-conforming in this age of sameness. However, he has to temper his non-conformity a little by masking it in the guise of utility. The Dude is just that: a dude. He’s welldressed, engaged in a fairly prestigious line of work, and often seen wearing a suit and tie while riding (usually on the way to work). Matter of fact, the whole ensemble of cycle and rider must be called natty to say the least.
His machine is usually medium-sized, quiet, modest in appearance, kept immaculately clean (and in the garage at night), and more often than not has an oversized box or travel trunk in which to carry briefcase or groceries. He rides it with his legs flayed out a little to avoid getting dirt and grease on his pant legs, has a heel shifter so as not to mar the shine on his shoe, sports a slightly incredulous look on his face, and has a cautious mistrust in his eyes (as if maybe he’s aboard a Brahma bull instead of a predictable, innocent motorcycle).
Deep down he gets a big kick out of his two-wheeled rig, but his enjoyment is spoiled a little by the imagined bad things others may think of him when they see him riding. He still enjoys blipping the throttle at stop signs and going rapidly through the gears though, especially when he thinks nobody is watching. The Dude is the buyer most likely to pay full list for his cycle, and the most likely to take it back to the dealer for regular maintenance. But that isn’t too often, since he’s lucky to put 1000 miles on it in a year. If you want a used bike, this is the man to buy it from.
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MR. (OR MRS.) UTILITY
Mr. Utility, like The Dude, is also after efficiency. But instead of using efficiency as an excuse for riding, Mr. Utility uses it as the sole purpose for riding. The bike he rides is almost always small, usually 250cc or less. To him it’s the 60, 70 or 80 miles per gallon it gets, its “park it anywhere” feature, its relatively low purchase price, and the low license fee that matter. Because, unless he’s an eccentric, there probably aren’t too many zeroes in his income. You’ll see a lot of females in the Utility role, too.
Since this type uses a cycle for pure transportation, he’s not likely to take as much pride in its upkeep as some of the other species. Therefore, it may have that rundown look about it, with unrepaired dents, rust, torn seat, loose chain, low tires, loud muffler, missing parts, and engine roughness in ample evidence. In other words, it’s often in a race with the junkyard. The owner may be seen kicking his neglected beast when it lets him down. If you waved to Mr. Utility he’d look around trying to spot the object of your felicitations.
There is always a box or travel trunk on the back of his bike to carry things, and often a number of bungie cords fastened here and there to hold everything from grape stakes to a bowl of goldfish. It’s hard to distinguish the rider after he (or she) leaves his utility bike, since riding attire is whatever the street attire happened to be (with the possible exception of a helmet, which will often be seen hanging on the bike by a bungie cord). There may come a day when the utility factor ceases to be important, and bike and rider will part. However, no doubt many an ex-Mr. Utility continues to look with a certain fondness upon two-wheelers. . . machines which once held him in good stead.
MR. SAFETY
This type may ride for any number of reasons: utility, enjoyment, to add a little zest to his life, or whatever. But whichever the reason, it’s safety first out on the road. He’s not about to be done in while astride his noble, twowheeled steed. How does he accomplish this? By being prepared, and by being conservative. For instance, no matter what the temperature may be, he’s still going to bedeck himself with a full set of high vis riding attire—leathers, boots, gloves, and a helmet that comes almost down to his shoulders.
His bike will usually be light colored and therefore easy to see, with maybe an extra reflector or two for night riding. Naturally he’s going to have his lights on high beam, day and night.
While riding, Mr. Safety’s head will be in constant motion, looking for danger (like a World War II fighter pilot scanning the sky for a Hun coming out of the sun). He also sits bolt upright to give him all the altitude he can get for better visibility. On a two-way road he’ll stay way over on the right third of his lane.
When approaching a stop sign he’ll figure out the point at which he should slow down to make a safe stop, then add 40 percent. He’s the type who got a perfect score on the driver’s test and has never gotten a ticket. He’s usually a little older, drives a little slower, is spooky as a stallion and will never wave at you because it means taking a hand off the handlebars. And he’ll outlive us all.
So much for my list of six. Try spending an extra second eyeballing your fellow motorcyclists when next out on the road. You may be the First to spot an entirely new species of twowheeled specialist.
